


I Love the Glass in Your Teeth, Darling.

by Ambazaar



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gone All Wrong, Other, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-13 20:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17495069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambazaar/pseuds/Ambazaar
Summary: A dream I had . . . I know my head is fu**ed, Okay? Don't judge me monkey.





	I Love the Glass in Your Teeth, Darling.

My lungs hurt. My knees hurt. My heart's pacing in my chest at a million miles an hour; it should have given out by now. Well, maybe it _has_ given out and I just haven't realized it yet. Maybe this is Hell. It would make sense. This is certainly worse than any Hell I would have been able to imagine. I feel the blood from my forehead head running down the side of my face, I'm surprised I have any left at this point. I feel queasy. I look down at the gash in my thigh. It looks bad. Really bad. I need help. _I'm going to die here._ I inhale, but it sounds too loud - I hold my breath for as long as I can. Everything is silent. God . . . where is he?

* * *

 

_"Hey! I was just about to call you!"_

_"You're kidding?"_

_I smile and shake my head, like he can see me doing so. "Yeah I just got off work, was thinking about you_."

_"I was thinking of_ yo _u. And, perfect timing. Want to grab_ _some_ _lunch?"_

_"Uh, yeah_ _sure_ _. Let me run home and_ _I'll_ _meet you in 30 minutes?"_

_"Perfect"_

* * *

 

I sit hopelessly on the cold floor, clutching a very rusted, very useless, pipe I had procured from a shelf I passed while running for my life. No more running. I can barely walk, as it is. My head wobbles back and forth; I've left a mess behind me. I'm surprised he hasn't found me yet. Or maybe he's just toying with me. It's impossible to determine with my head so fuzzy. I nod out for half a second and suddenly shoot back to consciousness. Did I just fall asleep? No. No,I couldn't have. I look out a window high up on a wall across the hall from me and notice that it's still pitch dark outside. I need to get up. I need to find help. _I'm going to die here._

My eyes trail from the window to the masks adorned on the sickly, green walls and I shiver at their wide, smiles. I hear them laughing in my head as if they know my fate. I _need_ to get up. I snatch my gaze away from the wall and force myself onto my good leg with the help of a nearby rocking chair. I test my other leg, but nearly pummel back onto the floor, a slight gasp escaping past my lips. I hold my breath, praying that he didn't hear me. I peek my head out into the hallways, scanning for any sight of him. There's nothing - only silence. It worries me. 

Perhaps he got lost. It would seem likely in this place, with its odd turns, surprising dead ends, and piles and piles of clutter from one corner to the next. Every where I look I see shelves of old books, gatherings of figurines and statues, cabinets full of China, walls of paintings, boxes full old vinyls and magazines, and displays holding the occassional vintage toy or two. An absolute mess. But he knows his way around, which makes me all the more anxious. He could be anywhere, it should be so easy for him to hide among so many still faces.

When the silence becomes almost deafening, I start limping down a hall that looks unfamiliar, ignoring the searing pain in my leg. I'm grateful for all the clutter then, because it will be harder for him to follow the small trail of blood that I'm leaving behind. Most of it is soaked up in my pant leg and my shirt, from the collar to the end of my sleeve, but a bit drips down my arm, trickling from my fingers onto the beautiful carpets as I pass over them. I'm also leaving broken traces on the wall as my hand glides over it for support, but I can't help it; walking on my own is near impossible.

Every step I take sends a hot pain up my leg into my hip, but I push forward. I Have to get out. I Have to get out.

_I'm_ _going to die here._

* * *

 

_He opens the car door for me. At first I think,_ Wow, what a cliche, _but then he smils at me, that beautiful,_ _pearly_ _smile that makes me anxious every time I see it. God, I think I may actually like this guy. Which just makes me more anxious. But I can see that part of him is nervous, too. This is our fourth night out together. Something is supposed to happen now right? Lord, I've never been any good at this. We don't make eye contact on our way to my front door. I catch him rubbing the back of his neck through the corner of my eye as I try to find the right key. I_ _know_ _which one it is, but_ _I'm_ _taking longer on purpose. Is he supposed to say Goodnight, or am I? Ugh..._ _I'm_ _a mess._

_"Alice."_

_I drop my keys. What an_ _idiot_ _. "Yeah?"_

_"I had a lot of fun tonight."_

_After picking the keys up again_ , _I turn to him. He smirks._ _His_ _arms are crossed over his chest, he_ _doesn't_ _seem like_ _he's_ _in a_ _hurry_ _to leave. And honestly, I_ _don't_ _want him to. I stand up straight and finally unlock the door. "So did I. Thank you for asking me out."_

_"Of course."_

_God,_ _he's_ _so formal. I smile, my hand stuck on the handle, and with_ _more_ _confidence than I thought_ _I_ _could_ _muster,_ _I ask him in for a drink. He loosens up finally and flashes that full, white smile._

_"Absolutely."_

* * *

 

I trip over a lump in the carpet and before the floor comes up to meet me, a loud, terrified scream escapes my lungs.

Thankfully my arms break my fall, but I can no longer feel my leg. Everything is numb, from my neck to my feet. I'm shaking. Hot tears blind me for a moment. I try to force myself up again but I can barely move.

I hear whistling echo through the wooden walls. I freeze. The tears run down my cheeks and my eyes stare blankly at a spot on the ground in front of me. The tune is sinister and somehwhat familiar, but more importantly, it's close. He's coming. 

I panic, ignoring the numbness in my body, ignoring the tears, focusing only on the haunting melody surrounding me and the approach of timed footsteps. I start to crawl to the nearest cubicle and squeeze myself between a bookshelf and a trunk covered in old quilts. I bring my knees to my chest and hold my breath. 

A new sound approaches: a vibrating scraping sound, like a long glass shard dragging against the wall, but I can't tell from which direction it's coming from. My lips quiver. More tears pour down my face. The whistling stops.

_You can keep me waitiiing - every single daaay_  
_I'll_ _be there_ _to_ _meet you anywaaay_  
_You make liiife a love_ _a fair_  
_Anytime,_  
_Anywhere_

Once I would have found the beauty in his voice, but as the words hit me, I'm filled with terror and dread. A small gasp passes through my lips and I quickly slam pale fingers over my mouth. 

_Whyyy should I_ _liiie_ _and_ _pretend_ _I_ _don't_ _belong to yooou_

The scraping stops. I close my eyes so tightly, dots appear behind my eyelids and I feel dizzy.

_Whyyy_ _even try when it makes no difference what you dooo_

Hes so close. I cover my ears and hold my face down into my knees. I hold back the sobs, trying so hard to keep as still and as quiet as I am able. I can feel my heart in my throat and something tells me he can hear it too. I start to pray, even though I've never prayed in my life. _I_ _don't_ _want to die here._

"I've found you, Alice."

My breath catches in my throat and I open my eyes, but they're frozen to the wall. My mouth hangs agaped, my heart is silent. I can _feel_ him. I see the glass shard through my peripherals stabbed into the floor in front of me, blood staining the end. _My_ blood. Long, pale fingers grip the other end so tightly the glass is cutting into the hand that holds it, more of the scarlet liquid sliding down to mingle with the rest.

He kneels down in front of me, but I don't look at his face. Even so, I catch a glimpse of the unnatural shine in his crystal blue eyes. He's smiling, a long pearly smile I now hate. I see the claw marks I've left on his chest through the open button up he's wearing. The remnants of my kiss still lingers there and I feel his skin's traces burning on my lips. I can't meet his gaze. I can't move. I think I'm already dead.

* * *

 

_"So, how long have you been into_ _antiquing_ _?" I ask, raising the beer_ _bottle_ _to my lips._

_He gives me a sly smirk. My heart skips a beat. "Well, I_ _can't_ _tell you. Family_ _secrets_ _and all that."_

_"And if you told me you'd have to kill me,_ _right_ _?"_

_"Exactly."_

_We both chuckle. His eyes drift down to his bottle and we're silent_ _for_ _a moment. See, this_ _is_ _nice._ _We're_ _just sitting here talking, actually getting_ _to_ _know_ _one_ _another. Why was I so worried._

_" You_ _don't_ _meet a lot of_ _people_ _your_ _age_ _into_ _antiquing, do you_ _?_ _" I ask. He_ _looks up_ _at me and takes another drink of beer, locking eyes with my own. "_ _Doesn't_ _it get lonely?"_

_He_ _slowly_ _lowers the bottle, staring deep into my eyes. Something in him has_ _changed,_ _I can feel it_ _immiedetly_ _. Have I_ _said_ _something_ _wrong? He nods, looking down at his hands._

_"Sometimes." He says_ _solemnly._ _And I can feel it_ _in_ _his voice, that_ _loneliness._ _I lower my own bottle onto the table beside me and just look at him for a_ _moment._ _He seems so_ _distant_ _all of a sudden. I want to touch his shoulder, but_ _I'm_ _too afraid to. In the_ _end_ _I_ _just_ _decide to_ _hop_ _from the arm of the couch_ _where_ _I'm_ _sitting to_ _the cushion next to him and smile._

_"_ _You'll_ _have to show me the shop sometime."_

_He smiles back and his left eyebrow moves up michieviously. "Will_ _I_ _?"_

_"Of_ _course._ _I'd_ _love to see it. I love old_ _things._ _All the_ _memories_ _surrounding_ _them_ _._ _It's_ _nice_ _to think about all the history something over 100 years old has. Like a table. How many dinners were served_ _onto_ _it. The hands held under it. That sort of thing."_

_I'm_ _rambling. I look back at him to apologize but_ _He's_ _staring at me. Those beautiful deep, ocean eyes boring a hole into mine and_ _I'm_ _suddenly frozen. My breath_ _catches_ _in my_ _throat._ _He's_ _coming_ _closer_ _to me. I_ _don't_ _know_ _what to do. My eyes_ _can't_ _leave his. I start to lean into him. His hand is on my knee and I feel his pulse_ _through_ _my jeans_ _. His hot_ _breath_ _hits my face. Our_ _noses_ _touch. My gaze drifts down to his thin lips and I want to know more than anything what_ _they_ _taste like._

_"Lets go then." He says suddenly. I pause. I look back into his eyes and realize_ _he's_ _pulled back._ _He's_ _smiling._  

_"What? Now?"_

_"Yes, now."_

_"It's 1 in the morning"_

_"_ _I've_ _got the keys." He stands up from the couch, pulling me with him. I laugh. This man may_ _actually_ _be crazy._

_When I_ don' _t_ _follow him out the door, he stands there, waiting for me with a sly expression on his face._ _"It'll_ _be worth it. Trust me."_

_There's something about his tone and the way he's looking at me, his hand_ _outstretched_ _to_ _receive_ _mine, I_ _find_ _myself_ _trusting_ _him. Completely. I grab my coat and follow him out the door._

* * *

 

His hand is ice cold against my cheek. Hours ago, his touch had been so warm. So inviting. I shiver as his fingers trace my jaw. He wipes the tears with his thumb. He grunts. I look up at his lips, closed against each other in a thin line. Then finally I meet his eyes. 

Those wonderful eyes, they look so different. There's something hiding behind the speckles of green woven within the deep shade of blue. Something dark. Something hungry. 

"We were getting along so well, Alice."

"What do you want from me?" My voice is shaking so much my words are barely understandable. But I know he heard them.

He runs his fingers through my hair, staring into my eyes. "You know what I want," he says. His voice is deeper, thick with venom. Another tear trickles down my face and he bends toward me to lick it from my cheek. The wetness feels like ice against my skin. 

"Kill me," I breathe out. He pulls back and smiles. 

"No, sweet girl." My lips tremble as his fingers snake across my collar bone and rest apart just below my neck. "I need you."

"Kill me." I say louder. His grip tightens around my throat, his fingers digging into the wound he's left there. I cry out but he enjoys that. 

Suddenly he's kissing me and my lips begin to burn. I taste the blood on his mouth. I want to throw up. I try to push him away, but I'm so weak. He picks the blood from my neck and more tears stink my eyes into blindness. Then I feel something.

It's the cold copper of the rusted pipe I found against my thigh. I can't hit him hard enough on the head to knock him out. I need to do something. My fingers slide around the pipe, as slowly as I can manage. My sobs are distraction for him enough. 

As quick as I can, I lunge to pipe into his neck. It doesn't go deep, but it's enough for him to bolt backward in surprise. He falls on his back, the pipe sticking out of his neck a bit, blood spilling from his mouth. I quickly get on my knees and reach for the shard of glass in his hand. He fights me for it and I split my hand open, but in the end I snatch it from his loosening grip and plunge it into his heart. I cry out as my hand slides down the Glass but I don't care. I stab him again. Blood spurts out onto my clothes, my face, some in my mouth I think. I don't care. Then I'm too weak to move.

I fall on the floor beside him. He's stopped moving. His eyes stare wide up at the cieling, the color has left them. Blood pours like a fountain onto the floor and when it hits me, it's warm. I don't care. I can't move. I close my eyes and everything turns black.

* * *

 

_I pick up a plate_ displayed on a metal rack. _It's_ _red and_ _black._ _Some of the paint has worn away, but the face of the Native American woman centered in the middle looks untouched. Beside it sits a model ship. Beside that are a few pictures. There's no price on them._

_I look closer at one photo in particular and notice the frame looks_ _almost_ _brand new, but the picture inside_ _seems_ _centuries old. A man stands_ _perfectly_ _uniformed in some Victorian fashion, his hands behind his back, his hair long, dark and wavy. His eyes a dark, deep shade. Though the picture is black and white,_ _I_ _guess his eyes would have been blue._

_"Christian . . .This man kind of looks like you." I pick_ _up_ _the picture and show him. He comes over_ _to_ _me and takes the picture and puts it back without_ _even_ _looking at it._

_"I get_ _that_ _a lot._ _That's_ _why_ _I_ _haven't_ _sold it."_

_"Is it an ancestor or something?"_

_That sly smile returns. He_ _doesn't_ _answer_ _my question._ _He's_ _looking over my face, like_ _he's_ _admiring me. I laugh nervously._

_"What?" He shakes his head._

_"_ _You're_ _beautiful."_

_My smile fades._ _I've_ _heard men call me beautiful before, but never like that. Never when_ _they_ _are looking at me the way he is looking at me. My face is hot, but his touch is hotter. His fingers brush over my cheek, pushing my_ _hair_ _out of my_ _face_ _._

_His lips are on mine and_ _then_ _gone before I can even_ _comprehend_ _them._ _I'm_ _frozen._

_"Im sorry," he pulls back,_ _taking_ _away the warmth of his hand from the side of my face._

_"_ _It's_ _alright," I_ _blurt_ _out. He_ _laughs_ _at himself. God,_ _he's_ _so cute when_ _he's_ _nervous. I_ _don't_ _know_ _if its_ _the beer, the hour, or the fact that_ _every time_ _I_ _look at this man my heart stops for half a moment, but_ _suddenly_ _something_ _in me switches. I take a step closer. "Do it again."_

_He_ _lunges_ _at me. His_ _fingers_ _are on my body in seconds, pulling my hips into his. His lips_ _devour_ _mine. He_ _parts_ _my teeth with his tongue. He tastes like cinnamon. I feel his hands slide across my back and mine snake into his hair. I push his head_ _closer_ _into mine._

_Christian pulls me up off the ground and sets me on a nearby counter, knocking over the vases displayes on it. He ignores the clashing of glass on the floor and forces my legs around his waist._

_My fingers go to work on the_ _buttons_ _of his shirt. My nails glide down his chest, feeling_ _every_ _muscle_ _on the way to the front of his pants. I drag my bottom lip over the mole on his breast. I gasp when he tugs at my hair and exposes my neck_ _to_ _his lips. His hips grind into mine. His mouth trails from my neck_ _to_ _my collar bone and_ _suddenly_ _his hands are on the front of my shirt_ _and_ _he tugs until it rips open. I stop in surprise. He doesn't._

_One hand grips the hair at the back of my head and the other slides across my back, pushing me closer, and his teeth scrape against my breast. He nibbles at the skin. I want to push away for a_ _moment,_ _just_ _to look into his eyes but he_ _doesn't_ _budge._

_"Christian..."_

_He_ _doesn't_ _respond._ _His teeth bite into the skin_ _between_ _my neck_ _and_ _shoulder and I cry out slightly. "Christian, that hurts."_ _He's_ _ignoring me. I start to panic. I realize he has no intention of stopping. Oh_ _Lord,_ _what have_ _I_ _gotten_ _myself into? "_ _That's_ _enough. I said stop."_ _Tears_ _start to form in my eyes as_ _I_ _try to push him away. But_ _he's_ _got me in a position_ _that_ _I_ _can't_ _wiggle my way out of._ _I'm_ _frantic._ _"STOP!"_

_A white hot pain shoots out_ _from_ _my neck at that moment, spreading_ _to_ _my shoulder, down my arm, and to my fingertips. I smell copper in the air. A warm liquid pours down my neck and before I realize that_ _it's_ _blood, I have_ _lost_ _the ability to scream._

_It's_ _him. His teeth._ _They're_ _in_ _my_ _throat and_ _blood_ _is oozing from his mouth. Over the ringing in my ear I hear intense gulping. Is he drinking my blood? What the fuck is going on?!_

_I_ _don't_ _know what_ _exactly_ _happens next, but in one_ _moment,_ _my fingers slide around a vase that still stands on the counter_ _and_ _I bash it against the side of his head. I hear the_ _porcelain_ _shatter. He stumbles back, but only slightly._

_And then I see his face._

_The color is gone. His eye_ _sockets_ _appear_   _almost_ _black,_ _viens_ _spread_ _out_ _from them down to his neck and over his chest, along with the blood dripping from his mouth. Through the darkness in his face, his once deep blue irises shine like_ _sapphires_ _,_ _glaring_ _into mine with fire. And his smile spreads wide, revealing_ _a perfectly white row of sharp_ _teeth._

_I scream._

_I turn and run. All I hear behind me is his cackling laughter. A moment later,_ _I_ _find myself flying through the air_ _into_ _a display case. The sound of glass shattering surrounds me. Then there's nothing but pain. I struggled to_ _sit_ _up. Using my_ _arms_ _to lift_ _myself_ _from the floor, glass stuck in my palms. A large shard is sticking out of my leg. I_ _turn_   _to_ _sit_ _on my_ _bottom_ _and reach for it, but in moments Christian's foot collids with my chest and he forces me down. He_ _grips_ _the shard in my leg and_ _twists._ _I let out a bellowing scream._

_"Where were we?" His voice is mixed with something dark. I_ _attempt_ _to kick at him_ _with_ _my_ _other_ _leg. He laughs. As quick as the thought comes to me, I_ _trap_ _a_ _hand full_ _of glass in my fist and_ _throw_ _it in his face._ _The_ _minute he stumbles back,_ _I_ _lean forward and yank the_ _shard_ _from my leg and slash at his face as he_ _lunges_ _for_ _me. I slice at his ankle and sweep his legs with my good one. The_ _minute_ _he hits the floor,_ _I'm_ _on my feet again. I run._

* * *

 

The first thing I notice is the heat of the sun on my face. I open my eyes and immiedetly close them again. It burns. It's too bright. I lift my hand over my face and begin to sit up.   Strangely, there is no pain.  After my eyes focus, I open the slit in my pants to examine the cut. But there is nothing there, just dried blood. Same as the wound on my neck. I quickly stand with no problem. I don't understand. My clothes, my hair, I'm covered in blood. The puddle still remains on the floor, but Christian is also missing.

But how?! I killed him. I _kille_ d him. Yet he's no where to be found. My head hurts. I can't focus. Was last night real? Am I crazy?

I stumble for the first couple of steps and finally catch my bearing. When I find the front door, I bolt. The sun stings my skin, but I don't care. I can barely see, but I have to get home. I have to find help.

Someone will believe me, right?


End file.
